


That Which Makes Us

by Coffeedormous



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post canon, alien identity crisis I guess, gratuitous shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeedormous/pseuds/Coffeedormous
Summary: Two years after Odo left DS9 to rejoin the Great Link a message comes from Starfleet asking him to visit the station again and brief the Federation advisor on the news from the Founders' planet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to wonderful @jazzypizzaz who beta-read this for me. You're the best!

I.

The runabout systems whooshed quietly, inducing a peaceful atmosphere which for Odo always seemed perfect for contemplation. An ensign in control of piloting the runabout, so Odo was enjoying his last minutes alone before he got to the station.

The first issue arose when he was greeted by the young man sent to pick him up from the Founders’ planet. Speech was difficult: after two standard years spent in a Link where no verbal communication was necessary, the humanoid was slow in coming back to him. The sounds seemed like separate entities, gobbled and awkward, and the first couple of minutes of their conversation must have been hard on the ensign, too, since apparently the universal translator had quite a task of interpreting the sounds that came out of his newly formed mouth.

Holding the humanoid shape, however, was easy. He learned a lot about shapeshifting while living with his people, and if he put a mind to it, he was sure he could now master a much better imitation of humanoid facial features. But the memories of the one who was known as Odo prompted him that it wouldn’t be right. So he had taken the form familiar to everyone who knew Odo when he boarded the runabout.

After half an hour’s flight and much patience on the part of the ensign, he got over some major speech difficulties, slowly remembering how the one called Odo used to speak, remembering that the language he spoke was called Bajoran. Apparently, universal translator had been smoothing away his major lapses, because now small talk became somewhat possible.

The young Terran man taking him to the station leaned back in pilot’s chair and looked at him with a barely concealed wonder.

“Are you excited to go back, Constable? You look a bit nervous, y’know. I’m sure everyone’s looking forward to seeing you, sir.”

He mumbled in response, “Nervous? No, we are not, it is not…”

“‘We’, sir?”

“I. This one isn’t nervous, me. I do apologise, ensign, we’re... I’m still having trouble with this talking... thing. I am sure it is alright.” He wasn’t sure about many things as he was saying that, but that this was a lie he was very sure indeed.

He was aware of all the memories of the one who used this physical form and was called Odo before he joined the Link. He was also aware that the ones not of the Link, the not-hostile ones, have asked the one they knew as Odo to leave the Link and visit them. He was even aware that the one called Odo would probably be glad to do so. What puzzled him was how exactly he was supposed to know if it was actually Odo sitting here in the runabout, and not someone else.

The memories of Odo contained what it felt like to perceive oneself as a separate entity. He also had the same general knowledge of solids that was now scattered throughout the Link. Because of their poorly designed physical forms solids identified as separate beings, and although some individuals felt closer to one another than others, there still was alwaysthis dreadful sense of loneliness in them. He had the memories of Odo, he could recall he terrible, unbearable feelings of the one who was of the Link being alone, being a screaming part of the whole. He also knew that apparently solids were used to this existence and found it bearable. He knew that the one called Odo even came to like some aspects of it.

There was only one true distinction between sentient beings: there was the Link, and there were those who were not of the Link. They could be benevolent or malicious, but all of them were ultimately unimportant. To his surprise, the more he recalled Odo’s memories, the more separate, solid entities appeared to be very important for Odo. For him, that is. For the constable Odo, who was he.

The ensign told him that there are beings who are waiting for him, who would be pleased to see this form again. The only waiting, the only longing that was natural was the longing to rejoin the Link, and yet the Odo one knew how the solids felt about each other, and for him who was sitting in the runabout, the more he pondered on Odo’s memories, the less strange and alien they gradually became.

That seemed good. The one called Odo would want him to become...him. To greet the people who were waiting for him as their friend, and the one they...missed, that’s the word. They missed him, and he, who was now Odo, missed them too.

As the shuttle docked to the station, he felt uneasy; uneasy and alone, again. He tried harder to focus on Odo’s friends, and the name Kira came up in his mind.

Odo felt the attraction to her that, although very different from a yearning to rejoin the Link, was at least slightly relatable. Odo was pleased to be around her, he cared for her; somehow, she was important. The memories of Odo suggested that she would be likely to greet him upon his arrival. Odo would not want to disappoint her.

As he stepped out of the airlock, he hoped that it would get easier in time. The Odo one would want that.

The door rolled away, and a small Bajoran woman was standing behind it, fiddling with her hands and nervously inspecting the sealing. He started towards her, thinking that at least the solids’ emotion of uneasiness had settled in him pretty well already.

She finally saw him, her face lighting up in a genuine, if a bit panicked, smile.

“Odo!”

“Nerys”, he said, recalling Odo’s thoughts, embracing them. Odo would be glad, so glad to see her. Odo would embrace her, and so he did. She returned the hug, and the physical sensation engulfed him in its novelty. In a way, he thought, it was like being a bird and feeling the air rush under his winds, but maybe, just maybe it was even better. He was not sure.

“I’m so glad to see you”, she whispered into his ear, still holding him tight. “I know it’s only been a couple of years, but it seems like a lifetime. I hope...” she hesitated, “I hope you don’t mind coming here.”

“We’re...I’m glad to be here, Nerys, I really am.” Was he? Odo would definitely be, and so was he, yes.

They were slowly walking toward the Replimat now, Kira carefully holding him by the elbow. She was talking about all the things going on in the sector, about the efforts to rebuild Cardassia, about a good harvest on Bajor this year, about Sisko still out there somewhere, and Jake publishing his first major article in some big Terran journal. He was listening to her and trying to match everything up to the memories of Odo. Kira mentioned people, and their faces became slightly more alive, more important, less ephemeral than they were in his memories. He felt the complicated set of relationships and interactions between them slowly settling into place in his mind, but the feel of it, the emotional reaction to her words hadn’t quite come. He was now more aware of this very complicated world of the solids, but still didn’t quite grasp how exactly he himself fit into it. He suddenly realised how tired he was. It was too overwhelming, too hard to process all at once. And Kira’s cheery voice telling him all the news started to sound strained and suspicious at his barely uttering a word in response.

Why did he come, he thought desperately. After all, it’s not like Starfleet could make him. Why did he agree to leave the tranquility, the oneness of the Link, only to be immersed into this confusing, flashing world of solids? He searched the memories of Odo, his memories, to find a reason of his coming here. It wasn’t there, not as such, but there was some sensation, some...whimsical afterimage of Odo’s life, that came to the Link with Odo, and stayed there. It was a most foreign thing – a yearning for the different, for the unlike, for something or someone who was not of the Link. And when the communiqué from Starfleet came in, that feeling sprang up, came together in the Link to form again this one, the Odo one.

They reached his old office, empty but clean and in accordance with how Odo had left it. Kira mentioned that the new security chief resided somewhere closer to Ops. He stopped near the door and put his hand onto Kira’s.

“Nerys, please excuse us, but to tell the truth, I’m very tired. Do you mind if we took a couple hours to get..reacquainted with my old office?”

Kira seemed surprised, but after a beat said only, “Of course, Odo. Should we meet at the bar, say, at 20.00? That is, if you feel up to it, of course,” she added, noticing a weary look on his face.

“I’m sure I’ll be well rested by then, thank you. See you at 20.00.”

As the doors shut behind Kira, he turned around to face his old desk. There was no dust, no particular sign of the two years that passed, but somehow the dull black surface of the console gave away exactly how long a time it hasn’t been used. He circled it and sat in his chair, listening. The station emitted a low but constant buzzing noise, which, as Odo remembered, always seemed to him the equivalent of a humanoid breathing or a humming of a Bolian giant beetle: unnoticeable when present, but acutely distinctive when absent. The Odo one always felt that the fact that he doesn’t breathe, doesn’t have that natural rhythm, put him even more apart from all the other inhabitants of the station; even DS9 itself breathed, in a way, but he did not.

After some hesitation, he turned on the console and scrolled absently through the reports that had been channeled here from the new chief’s console – a courtesy from Kira, no doubt. Some of the reports (and the actions of security people described in them, he might add) were sloppy and ill-coordinated, sometimes they managed pretty well, but nothing in particular caught  his attention.

He turned his thoughts to Kira again. He had counted on her presence to revoke and bring to life Odo’s memories in a more personal, more vivid manner; he hoped that in her presence he would feel like the one called Odo had felt being here, among these people. And although her presence was pleasant, it didn’t really help him to feel more like himself. Any other part of the Link could’ve been in his place and would’ve felt exactly the same thing: a faint memory of someone who used to be apart from the Link for a very long time. Nothing more.

He spent a couple of hours like this, skimming through reports and remembering the feelings that seemed just as distant as the desired wholeness of the Link, when the console clock alerted him to his promised meeting with Kira at the bar.

The bar...the word rolled strangely in his mind, not feeling quite right. No, not just the bar, was it?

“Quark.” He said aloud, in this strange, harrumphed tone, which nonetheless seemed to be very fitting for this name.

That devious Ferengi. How could he forget about him so completely, Odo thought. And to think he’d just scrolled through these reports so inattentively, knowing that criminal was still at work here? Unacceptable. Unprofessional.

He suddenly realised that he was very annoyed. Furthermore, after some consideration he confirmed that it was definitely him, the sitting-in-the security-office-one, who was annoyed, and not just the memory of Odo.

“Great”, he thought. “I’m returning to the solids, and only thing I pick up from them is a useless irritation caused by a petty criminal.”

He harrumphed once more and strolled off, his pace a bit broader and more confident than when he walked in.

 

II.

The bar hadn’t changed much in two years. The dabo tables were still there, the elevated buzz of the conversations filled the space, mixing with a dim light. He stepped through the door and instinctively looked at the bar stand, expecting to see that criminal the one called Odo was always so concerned about. But instead he saw a lean Bajoran woman tending the bar, working some sort of bartender magic with a cocktail machine. “Well,” he thought, “Quark does tend to neglect the bar and pester specific customers sometimes, nothing strange there.”

“Odo, up here!” He heard Kira shout from the upper level, and went up the stairs towards her. On his way to the table he nearly tripped over the enormous oval hat lying across the entire table between two people engaged in a vivid and rather heated conversation. Odo heard the woman say to her companion:

“Q, I’m telling you, I know Picard, and he wouldn’tve told you these things if he didn’t have a good reason. Grow up already, stop pestering him, and move on, - or else I’ll contact certain persons in the Continuum, and your sorry ass will be dragged away. Again”

The name Q sounded familiar, but very distantly so. Still, Odo turned to look at the man’s face. He met his eyes, the man’s eyebrows shot up, and...Odo found himself sitting at the table across from Kira, who had just finished ordering a drink and was now saying something to him.

“...but I suppose nothing for you, as usual, Odo?”

Odo turned around, trying to find the arguing pair he just passed by, but there was nobody like them on the upper balcony.

“Odo, is everything alright?”

“Hmph, yes, major, we suppose it is. I just thought...nevermind. So,” he hesitated again, trying to pull something out of Odo’s memories, something to talk about, to cling on. “I take it, things are...more peaceful, now?” He gestured to several Cardassian and Klingon customers scattered across the bar, who were apparently enjoying their evening with little to no unwanted attention to their personas.

Kira looked around too, a bit of a proud smile on her lips.

“Yes, I guess so. The destruction of Cardassia really made us understand that at the end of a day we’re all just...people. Cardassians and Bajorans alike. Trying to rebuild our homes. Not that there are no incidents, of course, but it’s definitely better.”

“Speaking of incidents...I don’t see Quark.”

“Ah. He’s been on some business trip, according to my security reports, but I reckon he sniffed out that you’re coming back and is hastily disposing of any evidence from whatever schemes he was up to during these past two years.” She chuckled.

“Hm.”

Kira started to tell him about the new Kai and the Bajoran and Federation volunteers helping rebuild Cardassia. He listened to her, amazed, and zoned out of himself again. All this was very clearly important, but not for him. As she talked, he searched her face to find that something the one called Odo cherished so much, desperate to find the anchor to this puzzling world, to which Odo belonged, and he did not. Odo admired her courage, her righteousness, but that didn't matter now. Odo found her beautiful, but the concept of beauty required a judgement value. And how is he to know that she’s more beautiful than that man over there, or that woman serving drinks? They’re all so different, so...unique and separated, that just thinking about it all made Odo feel dizzy.

Kira noticed his confusion, and wrapped up her story quietly, with a concerned look.

Embarrassed and disappointed in himself, he looked down in an uncomfortable silence. Finally he thought of a safe topic.

“Anyway, when is this Federation advisor coming to interview me? We thought they wanted a report as soon as possible. Not that there’s much to report: the Link are not a very...eventful group, these days.”

“I haven’t received any word from them yet.” Kira answered, also visibly relieved to talk about something else. “The original communiqué stated that 'additional information will be provided upon your arrival', but there’s been nothing yet. I’ll get in touch with the Headquarters tomorrow if there’s still not a word by then.”

He grunted. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Not a most punctual organisation, Starfleet.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Kira smiled. “But they were a big help, and I think that after all these years I finally got over this...shame of accepting their help. I think we all did. And so far, it turned out not so bad.”

After a beat, she put on the same expression of discomfiture and concern he has come to dread ever since his arrival.

“Odo, I, ehm...If you don’t mind me asking, what are you gonna do after you’ve had your briefing with Starfleet? Are you going back?”

He knew that question would come up. Ever since he stepped aboard the shuttle he thought about it, loathed it, and, what was worst of all, he could not answer it even for himself. And now it came, and he stared into the table and seriously considered shapeshifting into a goo and slipping through the floor of the balcony. No, he thought. Odo wouldn’t do that. Odo would…

He almost sighed full-voice with relief when the raised voices below them were suddenly replaced with the sound of faces punched and noses being broken.  

 

“Excuse me, Nerys” he said to Kira, and, already turning into a Klingon mountain eagle, he stepped off the balcony, flew across the room and landed behind one of the drunken fighters, in a humanoid form again.

While he quickly handled the two customers, Kira gazed at him with a puzzled, amazed expression on her face. Suddenly a hand gripped her shoulder, and she turned around to see a strange woman in a bizarre round hat, smiling at her.

“Scary, huh?”

“Excuse me?” Kira looked at her with a guarded interest. “Do I...know you?”

“Do any of us know anyone? Take this one over there, for example. Thought you knew him, and now he’s become something completely different. And it’s scary.”

Kira frowned. “I’m not scared of Odo.”

“You’re scared now more than you were when the station was about to be boarded by Dominion troops. Because-- Cardassians, the Dominion, it was all...sorted out, yes? You knew where you stood. And you have no idea where you stand with him, or what he is, or is he even the same person he was when he left.”

“What...who are you, anyway? I haven’t seen you around, how do you know so much about Odo?”  
The woman smiled, and, for no apparent reason, Kira felt a tiny bit more calm. That silly, unpractical round hat oddly suited the strange woman. Her whole image radiated tranquility.

“Odo needs to find if there is anything here now that is worth becoming a person for. And believe me, that’s not a small thing he has given up to come here, and I very much doubt he would be able to do it again if he returned to the Link now. So, just give him time, dear. And remember: he’s much more scared than you, right now.”

Kira stared at Odo while listening to the woman’s voice, and when she stopped talking, Kira turned back only to find that the woman had already gone away.

After a time, Odo looked up to her from the lower level and gestured her to come down. She went down the stairs, instinctively looking around for that woman, but didn’t see the peculiar hat anywhere.

Odo held both drunkards with his extended tentacle arm.

“Nerys, I do apologise for the ruined evening, but we have to take these rascals to custody.”

“Of course, Odo.” She said. “See you later?”

“Certainly...and Nerys? About your question..”

“You don’t have to answer.” She interrupted him hastily. “I mean, you will have to, eventually, I guess, but not now. Take you time, Odo.”

He looked at her with a deep gratitude. “Understood.” he said quietly. They nodded to each other and parted ways.

***

The drunkards didn’t have enough time or energy to seriously injure each other, so he took them directly to the detention cells. When he got there, he found a bored Bajoran duty officer slumping over a cup of raktajino.

“New arrivals.” Odo frowned at him. “Get these cells open.”

The officer woke up a bit and slouched to the cells. As the prisoners didn’t look like they were going anywhere, Odo let go of them and started to fill in the forms on a local terminal.

“You.” he grumped, still looking down on the console. “Name.”

The voice that answered was definitely not one of his prisoners. And it was familiar.

“That’s one Rtuck you've got over there, and the other one is Jelas Winten, if memory serves me right.”

Odo raised his eyes from the console.

Leaning against the door frame there stood Quark, with a big travel bag on his shoulder and a wide grin on his face.

Odo briefly noticed some changes in him. A new scar on the tip of his chin that hadn’t been there before. And – could it be? It’s been only two years! - a couple of new lines on his face, his forehead. Somehow, the idea that Quark might be getting older disturbed Odo. It was Quark-- never-changing, ever-cunning. He couldn’t be old. The former Nagus was old, Quark wasn’t. That’s just how the things were supposed to work.

Odo turned back to his filing, doing his best to look uninterested.

“Quark.”

“I thought I’d pop by to say hello.” Quark creaked, moving into the room. As Odo still hadn’t paid him much attention, Quark started pacing around the room, visibly annoyed.

“Come on, aren’t you glad to see your old friends?”

“My friends I’m very glad to see. What’s that got to do with you?”

“Oh, you wound me, Odo.” Quark jumped to him, delighted with having produced some kind of comeback. “Or is it that you’ve lost the little decency youdeveloped while living with proper people here? Bet they've brainwashed you to a blank there, in that pool of yours.”

Odo straightened his back and felt something sinking inside him. It was funny, actually, because Quark had accidentally hit a sour spot. Most of his identity was lost in a Great Link. But oddly enough, in this very moment Odo felt most connected to his memories of who he was. He felt – yes, he felt hurt and annoyed, and vulnerable. Some of these feelings must have been reflected in his stiffened back, because as he stood there, Quark didn’t delivered another snare. The silence in the room was disturbed only by the newcomers tossing and turning in their cells, trying to get comfortable for the night.

Behind Odo’s back, Quark cleared his throat.

“Odo, I...” he started uncertainly.

Odo turned to face him, his eyes uncharacteristically bright and his...Quark wasn’t sure, but did Odo have the same ears as before? Were they smaller? Well, the earlobe wasn’t as defined, that’s for sure. Come to think of it, his whole face was a bit...different, but at the same time, oh so familiar. Now it was Quark’s turn to freeze.

Odo walked up to him, hands behind his back, and looked down at him with sort of a flare in his gaze.

“You know, Quark, I can’t believe I let your sorry tirades get to me in the past. You’re going to have to do better than that to piss me off, now. Besides,” - he demonstratively yawned and gestured to the clock. “It’s late, so I’ll leave you with these friends of yours here. Hope you had a productive business trip.”

And with this Odo turned into a rather large Terran bat, brushed his wing on Quark's nose, and flew out of the room.

Quark stood in a silent amazement for a moment, and only touched his nose carefully where the rough wing has skimmed it.

“Well, someone’s had one hell of a sabbatical, eh?” He said to the on-duty officer, who was already asleep.

 

III.

The clock chimed 07.00.

Odo sprang from his bucket, flew a few circles around the room as a nightingale, and then landed on a upper bulkhead as a bat, hanging upside down. He found that this form felt particularly good, for some reason. After some consideration he changed from a bat into a flying fox, and then into a Bajoran nightghoul which looked much like a large bat. He let out a content screech: the sensory input in this form was much more efficient. He decided that the morning rounds could be made in this form, and flew out of his room.

Yes, this form was excellent. After reaching the promenade he changed again in a smaller bat, to navigate easier through the morning crowds. He gained altitude and hovered a bit above the Replimat, delighted. Not being distracted by visual input felt nice, and his perception of everything was even more acute than in humanoid form. After some dazzling circles over the Promenade, however, people started to notice him.

A  Bajoran officer looked in his direction and tapped his comm badge:

“Bahra to Ops. I think some creature got loose on the Promenade, and it’s flying around here, sir. Should I get people to catch it? Looks like a nightghoul but smaller.”

Bat-Odo produced a very humanoid harrumph and landed in front of the officer, taking humanoid form.

Officer looked shocked at first, but under a stern gaze of the constable he frowned and tapped his badge again:

“Belay that, Opps. That was, ehm, the constable.”

Odo grunted and walked off.   
**

While conducting his regular rounds on the Promenade (now in a humanoid form, to avoid further commotion), he noticed Doctor Julian Bashir, pacing to and fro, in a crowd by a docking ring corridor. Odo pondered whether or not he should go say hello, when Doctor noticed him.

“Constable!” He shouted, smiling.

Odo flew from the balcony as a seagull and landed before him, his humanoid self again.

Doctor looked impressed.

“I say, Odo, that was great! How are you? Sorry I haven’t had the time to greet you, there’s been too much work, and today,” he chuckled, “well, today is sort of a big day for me.”

“Waiting for someone, doctor?”

Bashir blushed a little.

“Garak’s coming here. It’s been almost two years! And all this time – nothing but letters. Great letters, mind you, but still, it’s not the same.”

Odo thought that it was a very peculiar sight: Bashir had changed a lot from the time he first got to the station, and much of his boyish excitement and innocence was gone long before Odo left the station. These two years had also added a couple of lines on his face here and there, and if it wasn’t a fickle of light, Odo noticed even a lone stray of white hair on his temple. But as the Doctor talked about Garak and his arrival, his eyes, his whole face lit up in the same joy that was so characteristic of that young, excited doctor who just arrived at his first assignment. The confidence he worked up during these years didn’t go anywhere, but it was warmed up by such a genuine affection that Odo felt a sharp pang of guilt: he haven't felt anything like that when he met Kira yesterday, and she and Odo were supposed to be even closer to each other than Garak and the doctor. They were a couple, and these two…Come to think of it, Odo wasn’t sure about the exact nature of the doctor and tailor’s relationship, but ultimately it didn’t matter. He knew for a fact he was not happy to see Kira, not this much anyway. How could he, he sighed, he wasn’t even sure who he was, let alone how he felt about people..

“Constable, you alright?” Some of his thoughts must’ve shown on his expression, because the doctor looked a bit concerned.

“Quite. I just...nevermind.”

“I’m sure Garak would love to see you! Let’s have a lunch together! Or,” he added musingly, “you know, better make it dinner. Now, I think the transport’s here, I better go...”

“Of course. Give my regards to Mr. Garak, doctor, I'll see you later.”

***

The rest of a day was quiet. At 16.00 hours Kira contacted him in his office.

“Hello, Nerys.” He answered, leaning back in his chair.

“Odo, there’s something strange going on with all this Starfleet advisor business.”

“Oh?”

“The one who was supposed to come and interview you? I tried the standard Starfleet channel, and they told me they don’t know anything about it. But then I found the logs of the original call, and called back, and a man there told me that this advisor is already en route to the station. He said it was a delicate matter, and the standard Starfleet operations people wouldn’t know of it. That said, I checked the signature of the call, the frequency is definitely Starfleet. But this whole business still looks fishy to me”

“It does seems suspicious. If you would transfer all the logs and information you have to my terminal, I’d like to look into it myself.” Odo replied.

“I’m sure it’s nothing too serious, but yeah, you’re welcome to do that. Sending the files now.”

“Received. I’ll call you as soon as I find anything. Odo out.”

**

Odo spent the remaining time until dinner knee-deep in the files Kira had transferred him.

Checking and re-cheking the frequencies, the log configurations and encryption codes, he still couldn’t quite catch it. The fact that the people Kira spoke to didn’t give her a name of the advisor didn’t help, either.

Tired and confused, Odo decided to call the mysterious Starfleet terminal himself. After establishing a standard and perfectly normal link with Headquarters, Odo, to his surprise, saw a familiar face.

“Nog?”

“Constable!” Nog looked older, overall much more confident, but under the questioning gaze of Odo he shrank a little, looking rather uncomfortable.

“What are you doing answering calls in Starfleet headquarters, Nog?” Odo squinted at him with all-increasing suspicion.

“Oh, I was just, you know, passing by. Everybody’s at lunch, so I thought I’d answer.”

“Nog.” Odo grunted in a familiar and clearly terrifying tone.

“It’s...it’s really not a big deal here, Constable. I’ll, eh. Can I help you with something?”

“As a matter of fact, I was calling about the advisor that was supposed to meet me here. He..”

“Oh, yes, the advisor,” Nog interrupted him with a nervous enthusiasm. “Yeah, I’ve been told he’s gonna be here soon. Sorry for the delay, Odo, there’s a...much to do here, you know.”

“Nog, how do you know about it?” Odo was becoming more and more suspicious with every second.

Judging by Nog’s terrified expression, Odo assumed he inadvertently shapeshifted his face into something more menacing. Good, he thought.

“Rumour gets around! Anyway, gotta dash, I’ve got a briefing in five minutes, nice talking to you, Odo!”

Nog as much as screeched at him before cutting off the link with a forced smile and sheer terror in his eyes.

Odo frantically went over possible explanations of all this mess. He considered cancelling the dinner with Garak and Bashir, but then decided that it won’t do to start reintegrating into the humanoid society with impoliteness. His head still deep in the case, he started out of his room but paused on a doorstep.

“Computer, access Starfleet personnel files, authorisation Odo, 148C, D Bajor Alpha.”

“Authorisation level 4 confirmed. State your request.”

“Current posting of lieutenant-commander Nog”

“Lieutenant-commander Nog is currently assigned to USS Excelsior.”

“Humpff, very interesting. Computer, current mission and station of USS Excelsior?”

“USS Excelsior is on a one year mission of mapping a sector R-S7 in a Gamma Quadrant. Current location is Wentail System, 5th planet.”

“Ha!” Odo exclaimed victoriously. “Well, lieutenant-commander, I’m onto you now.”

He left for the Replimat, determined to get to the bottom of this.

***

Their dinner didn’t last long before it was interrupted with Doctor Bashir getting recalled to infirmary for some medical emergency. Frankly, Odo was relieved: his thoughts were still on this strange business with the advisor. He was about to excuse himself from Garak, but the Cardassian was seemingly in no hurry to get up from their table.

“Come on, Odo, don’t leave me here all alone. We haven’t spoken in a long time.”

“I’m afraid I would be a dull companion today, Garak.”

“Nonsense. You seem preoccupied. I’m always here to listen.”

Odo recalled their breakfasts together, in a time that seemed so long ago. Well, he thought, if there’s anybody on this station who could begin to understand his situation, it’s probably Garak.

So he launched into explaining to him the whole matter with the mysterious Starfleet messages. When he  finished, Garak was wearing an intrigued and oddly knowing smile.

“Strange business indeed, this. And Nog!”

“I’ve always said that Fereng wouldn’t leave his nasty habits even if they’d make him a captain.” Odo grunted.

“Oh, I’m not so sure he’s at fault, Odo. I think there’s only one question you need to be asking yourself.”

“And what might that be?”

“’Cui bono’, of course.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“It’s Latin, one of the dead human languages. Julian has been tutoring me in it, and he provided some fascinating literature. It’s a saying that means “In whose interest is it?” Who would like to get you back here?”

“Humpf. I don’t know. I suppose there can be a number of criminals planning to...”

“My advice, Odo: look closer at what’s near you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Garak shrugged innocently. Odo let his head fall down his chest in despair.

“I’m so tired, Garak. All this nonsense, when I can’t even figure out how to...” He paused.

“Do go on, Constable.”

Odo hesitated, but decided that if he started talking already, he might as well pour out all his problems at Garak.

“I do not belong here, Garak. I do not even think I know who I am anymore. And worst of all,” he added quietly, “I think I don’t love her anymore.”

Garak held a respectable pause, but when Odo didn’t continue he prompted:“Kira?”

Odo only nodded and kept looking down at the smooth surface of a table.

“I remember Odo’s, my feelings for her, but they seem bleak, distant, they have nothing to do with me. And what is even more infuriating: nasty things, annoying people seem perfectly real, perfectly unchanged.” He hurrumped. “I feel more present and aware talking to Quark than I do with a woman I loved.”

Garak looked at him with a rare compassion.

“I’d hate to presume, Odo, but I do think that I’m the person who understands you best in this matter.”

“How so?”

“Well, you see, I think we Cardassians understand these things better than most species. In Cardassian culture it’s an established axiom that blissful happiness, the so-called “happy-ever-after”, is a most feeble and unsubstantial thing to build relationships upon. It’s placid, stale; it lacks a conflict that shapes us, that is essential to our growth and, therefore, our satisfaction with life – in the long run. You may have been happy with Kira – but has your time with her left a mark on you, a mark that can be compared with the one, say, Dr. Mora left on you?”  
  
Odo looked at him in terror.

“Are you saying I want, need to be abused and tortured, Garak?! Is that what you mean by ‘leaving a mark’?!”

“Of course not, Odo. What he did to you was terrible, but it did make you who you are, in a large part, - wouldn’t you say?”  
  
“I suppose so. But how could you...”

“Odo, I’m not suggesting you go and live with Dr. Mora. I’m saying he shaped you, just as certain very nasty people back in a day shaped me and made me who I am today. But these things are past – for both of us. And as for me – I know what challenges, what conflicts – and with whom – are shaping me today.” He gestured affectionately at Julian’s abandoned plate. “I know what propels me to go forward. I suggest you discover what is it here that does the same to you, what – or who – makes you want to live, to argue with them the next day. And if there's nothing, I suggest you go back to the Link”

“Well, arguing won’t be a problem: Quark’s always here to help me out with that.” Odo grunted.

Garak just smiled at him.

“Actually,” Odo mused, “I’d better go ask Quark about all this business with Starfleet. It’s his nephew that’s involved, after all.” He took a minute to process all that Garak said.

“I’m not sure I agree with your...Cardassian take on the humanoid relations, Garak, but it does make some sense.” He got up.

Garak crossed his arms on his chest like a man pleased with his work.

“You have a good evening, Odo.”

Odo nodded and strode off.

 

***

He was half his way to the bar then an idea struck him. He diverted into his office and turned on the console.

“Computer, bring up a list on all senior Starfleet personnel currently associated with investigating the changelings.”

“There is one Starfleet officer matching the required parameters.”

“Name?”

“Lieutenant Susan Gillespie”

Yes, now Odo remembered. Tall woman, long grey hair, firm, but very polite. She was the one who questioned him at Starfleet headquarters a long while ago, when all this Founders business was only beginning to unfold. She was now listed as the only advisor on the changeling issue.

Odo checked the clocks: it should be about 18.00 in Dublin, where she was currently stationed.

He established a link.

She greeted him, her appearance practically unchanged after all these years. After a moment, her brow furrowed in recognition and surprise.

“Constable...Odo, if the memory serves?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to disturb you, but might I ask you a few questions? It’s important.”

“Well, of course. I didn’t know you’d left the Link.” She answered, curious.

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you also didn’t know there’s supposed to be a Starfleet advisor on changelings coming to this station.”

Her brows went even higher.

“As far as I know I’m the only one still listed as such, not that there’s much need of it now. And I’m certainly not going to DS9.”

After Odo explained the situation, she shook her head.

“I know nothing about all this, Odo, but false signals from the Headquarters – that’s very disturbing. I should contact them immediately.” She paused for a second.

“Wait, did you say there’s a Ferengi officer involved?”

“Yes, lieutenant-commander Nog.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of that one, but I just remembered: about a year ago I was approached by a Ferengi. We don’t see many here, so I remembered him.”

Odo brought up a picture of Nog to her monitor.

“This one?”

“No, that one was older, and definitely not Starfleet. He actually just came up to me in a bar, and started chatting. Odo, he was asking about changelings, and about the Link.”

“Did he say why? What did you talk about, in particular?”  
  
“He seemed interested in a changeling psychology. Kept asking if there’s a...I’m sorry, Odo, I was – and still am – merely speculating on this. He kept asking how, in my opinion, the Link worked. Did it allow for a personality to exist within it, or was it more like a collective consciousness, inseparable from one another. I told him that my guess was that a changeling who was apart from it long enough could and will develop a personality, but in my opinion after rejoining the Link and spending enough time in it that personality will be eventually lost, scattered through the Link. He seemed...upset. I was having a drink that night, and this conversation didn’t seem suspicious to me, now that there’s no Dominion threat. But now that I think of it it does seem very strange.”

Odo hardly let her finish.

“Mrs. Gillespie, you’ve been most helpful. If you’d agree to postpone a call to the Headquarters at least for 24 hours, I believe I’ll have some insight on what’s going on. Thank you again. Odo out.”

He cut the transmission, turned into a bat and flew away from his office.

**

When Odo finally got to Quark’s it was already pretty late, and on a working night like this the bar was nearly empty.

Quark was just finishing a Samarian sunset for a couple in the corner, when a bat flew through the door and landed on a bar stand right beside him, almost knocking off the glasses.

“Damn it, Odo!” Quark shouted at the bat. “You have any idea how difficult it is to prepare these?!”

Odo shifted into a humanoid form and was now sitting at the bar table, facing Quark, who suddenly felt that the space behind the bar was pretty cramped.

“Quaaark.” Odo folded his arms on his chest. “Do you have something you want to tell me, or should I drag you off to the detention and we’ll go by the book?”

“What are you talking about?” Quark tried to feign innocence, but was seemingly unconvinced in his own efforts.

“Cut it out. Tinkering with Starfleet channels is no small offence. Come clean now. I’m serious, Quark, that’s not some petty smuggling we’re talking about.”

“Okay, okay!” Quark burst out. “You want me to say it? Fine. It was me who sent that message.”

Odo was, frankly, puzzled by how easily Quark has given in.

“You? I mean, obviously you’re behind the arrangements of all this, but why? For whom? Who are you working for now?”

Quark, who a minute ago looked like a man ready to meet his fate, whatever it may be, now stared at him with incomprehension slowly transitioning to despair.

“You, you...Odo, you idiot. I’m not working for anyone. Damn, how can you be so thick...”

“What are you talking about, Quark? Why have you tried to get me back?”

Quark slammed a bottle he was holding down to the table.

“You’re the worst, you know that? So used to linking with your fellow changelings you can’t understand humanoid speech at all! Well I can’t link with you, so I’ll just have to say it, won’t I?!”

He as much as shouted these words to Odo, and Odo noticed the unusually painful, bitter expression on Quark’s face. But Quark continued shouting:

“Here you go: I missed you. Happy now? I missed you, and I talked to that Starfleet woman who said if you hang around the Link too long there wouldn’t be any you left in there. I had to get you out!”

Odo felt blank, sort of zoned out again, but instead of drifting away from the conversation at hand he cut out any other interference, focusing all of his thoughts and attention on the small, hysterical, ashamed Ferengi right in front of him, who was now downing one on the Samarian sunsets, looking beaten and worn out.

Odo shifted on the bar table, sliding off it in Quark’s direction. He replied calmly.

“I see. And what’s Nog got to do with this?”

Quark, sipping the second sunset, looked down at his boots. He lazily uttered:

“Nog managed to set up a comm unit on his ship so that to anyone who he contacted from it it’d register as Starfleet Headquarters. Clever boy. Garak helped with the encryption process, and a couple of drugs from Bashir’s stash helped to bribe a person or two.”

Odo was amazed yet again.

“Was half the station in cahoots on this?!”

Quark, still looking like his life has come to its untimely end, chuckled bitterly.

“No, just a few people. Plus, Morn, of course, you know how the guy is, impossible to do anything in this quadrant without him sniffing it out.” He took another sip.

“Not the glorious Kira Nerys, of course.” He sneered. “She would never let me disrespect you like this – pulling you away from your people.”

“Well, what’s done is done.”

Quark peeped at him from behind his glass.

“Are you gonna return, then?”  
  
Odo held a theatrical pause. He absently shifted a glass of Samarian sunset from one of his palms, and copied Quark’s motion of downing the liquor.

“I think I’ll stay.”

Quark produced something of a wobble, and shoved an empty glass on the table.

“Oh. As you wish.” He turned around, visibly shaking.

“Kira owes me thanks, then. Bringing back her boyfriend – hell, she’ll be indebted to me for life!..”

Quark started pouring himself another drink when he felt firm hands gently turning him around and resting on his shoulders. To his sheer surprise, Odo angled his birdlike face and touched their noses together in a very Ferengi-like gesture of affection. Quark stiffened, afraid that any moment the constable would pull away and proclaim this all to be just a plan to get Quark arrested. Instead, Odo started talking quietly:

“Nerys has nothing to thank you for, except maybe for bringing back a friend. But only a friend, Quark.” His hands were pleasantly heavy on Quark’s shoulders. He didn’t smell of anything – a new and strange feeling, Quark thought at the back of his mind.

“I can’t link with you, nor do I want to. I also will never be able to love you like I loved Nerys. But it was my observation that you humanoids also don’t quite love two persons in a same way.”

In the silence of the bar the underlying hum of station’s engines filled Quark’s ears.

“You...shaped me into what I am, Quark. And oddly enough, I think I like that shape.”

“Uh-ha.” Quark managed a strangled sigh.

“And if you think,” Odo added in a much more familiar tone, “if you think for a second that after this stunt you’ve pulled I’ll just leave you alone, you’re the dumbest person in this quadrant.”

They stayed like this for a long time.

The buzz of the station filled the room, getting into every corner like a sweet, calming aroma, like a heat of a fireplace lit in a cold room.

“Odo?”

“Hmph?”

“I say, while we’re at it, do you mind maybe moving your hands to my lobes?”

“Don’t be gross, Quark”

“Just a thought.”

In a complete silence of an empty bar, except for the constant hum of the big station, Odo added, in a barely audible voice:

“Besides, there will be plenty of time for that later.”


End file.
